


The Monday After

by iwasanartist



Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29357469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasanartist/pseuds/iwasanartist
Summary: Brian gets a few surprises at his locker the Monday after detention.
Relationships: John Bender/Brian Johnson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 74
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	The Monday After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nausicaa_lives](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nausicaa_lives/gifts).



Brian yanked on the combination lock and pulled the door to his locker open. If he’d been surprised to get to his row and find three lockers — his and one on each side — gleaming red with a fresh coat of paint, it was nothing compared to the sight inside. The metal had been scrubbed down, removing all the soot left behind from his burned books and clothes. He hadn’t expected any of it — there was a lot he hadn’t expected over the past weekend — but Carl must have been busy repairing the damage his flare gun had done while emergency crews responded to the false alarm on the other end of campus.

The inside of the locker still smelled strongly of solvent. It reminded him a little of the auto shop next to the other general shop lab. Bender probably took auto shop, Brian thought with a smile. He’d probably mastered the elephant light a year or two ago. Brian wondered if he would have pulled the trunk with as much disinterest as he showed everything else, or if there would have been a gleam in his eye and a half smile on his lips for his success.

He was still thinking about Bender’s lips when the first warning bell rang. Brian shoved the rest of his things into the locker and slammed the door.

“Boo.”

Brian startled at the sound, and that was surely the only reason his heart was racing when he saw Bender leaning casually against the locker next to his.

“H-hey, John” he stammered. “What are you doing here?”

“Got a present for you.” Bender slapped a spiral bound ledger against Brian’s chest. But this wasn’t just any old notebook. It was Mr. Fitzpatrick’s gradebook.

“Are you nuts?!” Brian said. “How did you get this? Why did you get this?”

“Open it.”

Brian opened the book to a page that was flagged. His name stared back, followed by his array of As and Bs that would have still worked out to a 90% passing rate if not for…what the hell? Where his big fat F for the elephant light should have been instead stood a blocky A from one line drawn down the side in similar enough ink.

“What the hell is this?!” Brian said. “You can’t do that!”

“I think I just did.”

“Well change it back!”

“Uh, it’s ink, genius. You can’t erase ink. Besides, Fitzpatrick’ll never know.”

“He’ll sure as shit notice when he goes to put it in the computer, did you think of that?! It’s the 80s, the paper record isn’t the final copy anymore!” Brian expected Bender to look startled at the development or angry at being called out, but instead Bender just raised an eyebrow, pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Fitz has been here 30 years this year, and instead of a raise he got a teacher’s aide. The only person who’s going to see that book at the end of the year is an over-achieving douchebag with a free period. You’re in the clear.”

“Well, he’ll notice when I’m the valedictorian who failed the elephant lamp test!” Brian whisper-shouted. Bender shook his head and laughed at him.

“Look, Johnson. You’re a sophomore dweeb taking one semester of shop. Two years from now, when you’re king of the dweebs, Fitz won’t even remember your name.”

“Oh. You know, I’m not sure how I feel about that, either.”

“Get over it.”

The second warning bell rang and Brian swore under his breath.

“I gotta go,” he said. “Can’t be late for trig.”

“Oh, no! Can’t have that!” Bender cried, bringing his hands to his face In horror.

“Hey,” Brian said, momentarily forgetting his urge to run to his class and instead stepping closer to Bender, “just because you’ve never been on time to class a day in your life…” his sentence withered under Bender’s gaze and the smell of cigarette smoke and auto grease. Bender gave a soft smirk and looked down at all the space that wasn’t between them.

“Brian, unless you’re auditioning to be my gym jockstrap,” Bender put a hand on Brian’s chest and shoved, “Back off.” Brian’s back hit the lockers with a clang. “And give me that,” Bender continued, reaching out to pluck the gradebook from Brian’s fingers. “Gotta get it back to Fitz’s desk.” Bender smiled and gave the faintest of winks before walking backward down the hallway, only twirling around when he reached the intersection and turned left.

Brian watched him go with a smile, absently rubbing his thumb over the spot where their fingers had touched. He frowned at the sensation — rougher than he’d expected — and looked down.

Scraped across his finger were flecks of dried red paint.


End file.
